Green Carnations
by Tori-Colour-Bastia
Summary: Alfred Jones, a wealthy heir, is sent by his father to London to impress a young lord. One-shot. USUK. Rated T for yaoi.


Green Carnations

_**Don't ask me where this came from as I'm not really sure. I guess it was reading a steampunk novel, and USUK doujinshi, and Black Butler. Nothing too explicit in this one. Just period flirting and kissing and dancing and general Victorian-ness.**_  
_**I really don't know much about Victorian England, so feel free to correct me. This sort of came to me when I was zoning out in drama. Which doesn't make sense because I love that class! But anyhow, I got the idea for the dance scene and it just kept getting longer from there.**_

_**For the record, this would have been SO taboo at that time. So keep that in mind and enjoy~**_

Alfred smoothed out his suit, looking in the mirror. He was dressed in a fine Taylor-made suit imported from France. He'd had it since his twenty-first birthday, just a week before his father had out him on this ship to be sent off to England on business. He hadn't even provided lodging for his only son, who was to take over the family business. He straightened out his cuffs carefully so he'd look like he belonged in the party. As soon as this ship docked (which would be less than a minute from now), he'd have to rush into town, find a taxi, and get this ball over with. It wasn't that he hated balls (in fact, on the contrary, he was _very_ gregarious), it was that he didn't know anyone in England and he had never been before. His own father was too busy counting his money to come to this ball and his job was to make a good impression on the young lord there so his father could expand their business into London.

As soon has he finished making sure every last detail was perfect, the captain called for the passengers to start leaving. Quickly he grabbed the green carnation his father had instructed him to wear, but only before he entered the ball. It made very little sense to him, as green wasn't exactly the prettiest colour for a flower, but it was his father's will. And his millionaire father was why he was here in the bustling London dockyard.

After hailing a horse and buggy and loading his luggage into the back of it, Alfred arrived at the ball. He payed the driver extra to wait while he did business with the lord, cursing his father for not supplying accommodations for him.

He entered the party, tucking the carnation into his button hole. He surveyed the scene for a moment, trying to pick the young lord out of the sea of people. He had been told that the lord was blond and was only twenty-three, but so many people at this party fit that description. And many if the men wore the same green carnation Alfred wore. At the centre of the bustle was a young blond with thick eyebrows and pretty, jade green eyes. He was fairly good-looking, despite the fact that his hair seemed like it couldn't decide which style it wanted to be in. He looked over at Alfred for a moment and stared to make his way over before abruptly being stopped by a blue-eyed blond. He glared at the man, shoved him away, and walked over toward Alfred.  
"Lord Arthur Kirkland, sir," he greeted with a bow.

So, this was the young lord his father wanted him to meet. He was at lot more attractive up close than he had been across the room and, like Alfred and a few of the other men in the room.  
"Uh, Alfred Jones, sir. Son of Michael Jones of Jones Industries?" he offered awkwardly.  
"Oh, your father must have sent you. Are you enjoying yourself?"

He looked almost... Disappointed. Like he was expecting Alfred to be someone of power.  
"Yup. He's just about the closest thing to royalty we have over in the states. Democracy and all..."

Arthur held out his hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

The millionaire's son tentatively took the lord's outstretched hand.

"Of course, my lord," he said almost flirtatiously, flashing him an award-winning smile.

The band was already playing a slow waltz. Arthur lead, Alfred following simply. He had been taught ballroom dancing in preparation for this trip in the hopes that he'd be invited back.

"So, Alfred, how old are you?"

The personal question seemed a little strange, but it was probably just in the spirit of conversation. He couldn't expect the Brit to be _all_ business.

"Twenty-one as of July."

"You probably already know this, but I'm twenty-three."

Alfred just found himself staring at Arthur's eyes. Perhaps it was because they were such an unusual colour. They seemed to flicker, even in the electrical lighting. And the more he looked at them, the more different shades he found. They were just really captivating.

"I know. My father told me. He didn't tell me your name, though."

The continued dancing for a bit, moving and responding accordingly.

"You're a good dancer," the young lord commented, "for an American."

He flashed a playful smile at the millionaire's son.

"And you're pretty attractive," he countered, "for a Brit."

The pace changed, with Arthur's chest at Alfred's shoulder blades. His hand was cupped in Arthur's, and both of them were smiling.

The blond from earlier walked over to where the two were dancing.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Kirkland. And who is this petite lapin? I haven't seen him with you before."  
"Baron, I cordially suggest you leave," the lord muttered.

Alfred didn't know either man very well, but he could sense the tension between them.  
"No, it's alright. I haven't met him yet," Alfred encouraged.

"Ah! So our lord has a petite Amerique! Be careful of this one, he's lain with many," the Frenchman suggested.

"Not as many as you've bedded, I'm sure, Baron. And I won't let such an innocent boy be ruined by your debauchery," the lord bit.

The baron rolled his eyes. "If he's too boring for you, I can always offer an escape, oui?"  
He gave Alfred a suggestive wink before swaggering off to dance with a pretty girl.

"So, who was that guy?" Alfred asked, curious.

"Baron Francis Bonnofoy of France, debaucheriser of young woman and scourge of European virgins," Arthur said, rolling him eyes. "I don't recommend doing business with him, you'll find yourself in his bedroom quicker than you can protest."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "And you know this how?"

Arthur leaned down next to Alfred's ear, his hot breath blossoming around his neck.

"No reason at all."

We're they... flirting? His father knew he was gay, but how did the lord? It wasn't to say he didn't _like_ Arthur. He was very attractive and his eyes...

They were like gems.

"Anyhow," he continued, drawing back from Alfred, "do you have a place to say while you're here in London?"

Alfred shook his head. "My dad didn't make arrangements and there was no room at the inn."

•••

After the ball, Alfred exited the building. Before he was about to step onto the taxi's step, Arthur ran up to him, nearly running out of breath. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

"Look, if you need somewhere to stay until your father sends for you, you can stay with me. I'm the reason you're here, so it's only fitting," he muttered.

"Thank you, Lord Kirkland," he responded before hopping onto his taxi and showing the address to the driver.

The buggy driver raised his eyebrows slightly before snapping the reins and calling the horses to a trot.

•••

Alfred couldn't help but marvel at the sight of Arthur's mansion. Sure he had lived in a big house before, but God, this was _huge_! How could one man live here alone? Of course he had to have servants. Alfred had servants and he wasn't even noble! After paying the driver, he took a seat on one if the trunks and leaned up against his valise. He waited a few minutes, taking in every detail of this humongous mansion one by one. Its shingles were slate in colour and there was a large, almost tower-looking part of the house that was taller than the rest. Its two windows were almost like wide, open eyes. Below that was the main part of the house, which he guessed to be two floors. It was studded with windows, each one with a decoration atop it like a crown and two, proud shutters to keep out wind and rain. The building shone a dull green in the moonlight. Alfred had to say it was beautiful. So much so, in fact, that he didn't want to get any closer, feeling as though the building might shatter as if it were made of glass.

Something that extravagant was made for royalty. It was fitting for the young lord.

He was interrupted be a hand on his shoulder. The American jumped, only to realise that the soft touch belonged to the lord, his eyes even more beautiful in the moonlight.

"You can go inside now, you know," he muttered.

"O-oh. Yeah. Right. You have a really pretty house, you know," he supplied.

Arthur looked up at him, his eyes shining bright with sorrow.

"It's lonely, though."

Alfred sympathised with him, grabbing his belongings.

"That's an awful lot to carry. You know I can-"

The millionaire's son cut him off. "It's no big deal. I had to get them off the ship somehow." He smiled at the Brit, who was walking slightly ahead of him. He was really cute with his blond hair shining silver in the moonlight.

Arthur pulled a key from his pocket and turned it with a click that echoed through the night. He opened the door, which didn't make a sound (contrary to Alfred's expectations).

"Normally there would be someone here to greet us, but it's far past curfew, so the manor staff are all likely in bed. Come along, I have a bed made for unannounced guests," he said with a smirk, lighting a kerosene lantern.

The dim light only illuminated a small portion of the corridor. To Alfred, it seemed like the setting for a precautionary tale told to children. "Don't go home with strangers. They'll take you to a dimly-lit mansion on the outskirts of the city and then... they do unspeakable things to you." The American shuddered. What had the baron said about Arthur bedding many? But on the other hand, the playboy _had_ said he was boring...

That didn't stop Alfred's worrying. He wasn't so brash as to think Arthur was a witch (this was the twentieth century after all), but this house and that one lantern? Creepy. Almost haunted.  
No. There's no such thing as ghosts! Alfred had convinced himself this when he was young, but...  
Truth be told, the notion still scared him.

"Sorry, we normally have electric, but it takes a while to get up and running and we'd be out of this room by the time the lights turned on. There are stares coming up, by the way."  
As soon as the young lord said this, Alfred nearly tripped on the first step, not looking where he was going. Arthur put a hand out to him.

"Want some help?" he asked.

Without hesitating, Alfred gripped his hand.

"Thanks."

The Brit smiled at him before pulling him up and continuing up the stairs. The kerosine let Alfred see the steps, and he made an effort not to slip again after re-gathering his bags. The stairs made no sound as the boys climbed up, which, if anything, was _more_ upsetting to Alfred. All he could hear with the click of dress shoes as they climbed. It was just so creepy.

Arthur opened a door and gestured for Alfred to go inside.

It was a large bedroom painted cream. There was a large window on one side of the room and a dresser on the other. In the middle, pressed up against the wall was a wooden bed with pristine whit sheets. A large carpet of pastel tones was spread out on the floor.

Alfred placed his bags near the dresser and smiled at Arthur.

"Thanks. I'll probably turn in now. What time is it, anyway?" the American asked.  
Arthur pulled a gold pocket watch from his shirt. "About half past eleven. We should both be getting to bed soon. Good night, Alfred."

"See you in the morning, Arthur," he bade, waiting for the lord to leave so he wouldn't end up changing in front of him.

As soon as the Englishman was out of sight, Alfred stripped down to his underclothes and nearly launched himself into bed. Dear _Lord_, he was tired. Dancing and wooing royalty was tough work for one man. And it surprised him. Normally he was so charismatic people were won over with a smile or a well-placed phrase, but royalty? No, they were much more stern. And he had to be so _proper_, too, as he'd learned by Lord Kirkland's example. This was going to be a tough trip.

But as soon as he curled up, he realised exactly how creepy this place was. The moonlight and the trees outside combined to create unsettling shadows on the walls and the mansion and the silence...

It was just too much. He nestled under his covers and pretended to be back home, and eventually sleep graced him. But right beforehand, he kicked himself for acting like a child.

•••

After a few days had past and Alfred had grown used to the house (though he was still uncomfortable traveling at night without the lord), the two were sitting together eating breakfast in the main dining room.

"So, Alfred?" Arthur started, breaking the silence that had formed around the table.  
Alfred gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look as he lost focus in his food. "H-huh?"  
"Well," he started, "your father and I were exchanging correspondence and he was wondering if I could offer you a permanent living space."

"Eh? Why?"

"Simply, he wants you to head the Jones Industries branch in England."

Alfred nearly choked on his breakfast. "What!? You're joking!"

"I'm not. It's your father's wish. He's pretty sure you're ready for it," he muttered into his tea before drinking it.

"So, would I stay for free, but I don't mind paying rent. Though I guess it would be pretty high, this is a mansion and all..."

"I only ask for a little payment," he said mischievously, smirking.

"What is-"

Alfred's question was cut off as the lord's lips sealed against his. Not even waiting for him to respond, Arthur pulled back, a look of horror on his face.

"I-I'm sorry. If you don't feel comfortable staying here after that. I'll even make arrangements at-"  
Alfred smiled. "You never even let me react." He kissed the other man briefly. "I don't mind such payment at all, Lord Kirkland. In fact, I've grown quite fond of you. You're very attractive."

Arthur held out a hand. "Then may I, Alfred?"

Alfred took it, a cheeky smile on his lips. "Of course, Arthur."

Arthur wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist and kissed him gently. The millionaire's son returned, his lips moulding against the Englishman's. It wasn't long before the kiss intensified, with Alfred's tongue slipping into Arthur's mouth. The lord promptly broke the kiss, smiling at him.

"You're okay with living with me and the carnation... It all makes sense now!"

Alfred cocked his head. "My father gave me that flower and told me to wear it."

Arthur laughed. "Imagine that! Michael Jones setting his son up with royalty!"

Alfred laughed, silently thanking his father for helping him meet such a wonderful partner.

_**Thanks for reading! I really hope there aren't too many inaccuracies in here. I believe I managed to avoid most of them XD**_

_**I don't really like the way the ending came out. It just didn't want to write itself, you know? Little bastard! *wrestles with ending***_

_***brushes dust off shirt after winning the brawl* Anyhow, in Victorian England, wearing a green carnation on one's button hole was a sign of homosexuality among the male population.**_

_**So yeah, please review, I know the ending's not that good.**_


End file.
